


Pressure

by writeyourheart



Category: The Dark Artifices Series - Cassandra Clare
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Basically lots of kitty holding each other, Fluff and Angst, M/M, MAJOR LOS SPOILERS!, also angsty kiss scene, and a lot of sad Blackthorns, i'll never get over livvy blackthorn yikes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-06
Updated: 2017-06-06
Packaged: 2018-11-09 17:57:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11109846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writeyourheart/pseuds/writeyourheart
Summary: "     Kit remembers when he had first found out. He’d thought of Ty, and then he’d thought of Livvy. And when he thought of Livvy, his mind soon after found Ty. It was so natural; to think of one of them meant to think of the other one, too. The two of them were two individuals who had become an individual on their own.Therefore, when Kit thought of Livvy dying, he thought of Ty dying as well. And he was not wrong. Livvy’s heart had stopped beating, but Ty’s world had stopped moving. And somehow, that was so much worse than death; to live in a world that was dead, rather than die in a world that was alive."Kit wanders into Ty's room at night, feeling the need to fulfill an unspoken promise to Livvy.





	Pressure

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone! This ended up being a lot longer than I had initially planned because I got carried away and may have become too invested in the storyline. 
> 
> Hope you all enjoy!

Pressure

 

* * *

 

      **The First Night**

The night was somber; the London Institute drenched in a lingering quietness. Kit lay down, his body engulfed in blankets, his hair slightly brushed by the wind allowing itself in from the open window. Steadily, he breathed, his eyes sternly on the ceiling.

            His face was expressionless, but his mind was wandering through a blasting chaos. Thoughts of the dead haunted him, as they had for the past two weeks. Images of his father, smirking bloodily, his arms entwined over a faceless woman with cascading blond hair. A father who was not his own held blades within his clenching fists, calling for the family he left behind.

            And a girl. She stood on a roof, her hair dancing behind her as the wind harshly pushed it away, her skin pale, her eyes piercing from the blazing city lights that surrounded her. From her ocean coloured eyes, she allowed red drops of blood to trickle down her smooth features, staining the white cotton dress she wore, falling onto her bare feet.

            Her lips moved with passion, but no noise escaped. Kit knew the name she mouthed. _Ty._

            Closing his eyes, Kit forced the familiar face of a dead girl away from his lucid mind, his palms burying themselves onto his eyelids, pushing and rubbing until the darkness turned dotted with white specks like the static of a TV screen.

            His breathing became heavier, his teeth clenched.

The world Kit was finally becoming familiar with had shifted, and everything that stood still tumbled over at the sudden rotation.

Julian was a clutter of emotions. With his siblings, he grew more protective, more possessive. Alone, Kit heard his muffled sobs every night when he passed Julian’s room to tumble into his own.

“ _I’m so sorry_ ,” was what Kit’s ears had grasped a few nights ago through the Institute walls. Julian wasn’t loud, but the hallway was so often quiet, and Kit couldn’t help but be more attentive every time he found himself passing by. “ _I couldn’t protect you. I didn’t protect you. I’m so sorry, Livia, my love.”_ Julian’s voice was ragged and bumpy, like an old road in need of reconstruction.

Kit’s heart seemed to sink every time his form wandered by Julian’s door, even if the older boy wasn’t there.

Drusilla was timid, quieter than he’d imagined. She cried more openly, at the comfort of Emma, Mark or even Cristina. In return, Emma, Mark or Cristina allowed their tears to fall, too.

Tavvy didn’t understand very much. One day he’d had his sister to read him stories, to comfort him when Julian couldn’t, and the next day when he called for her in his nightmares she didn’t respond. Julian would climb in bed with him instead, holding the boy as he cried himself to a pitiful sleep, whispering meaningless words of comfort in the darkness, where Tavvy couldn’t see Julian’s own tears.

Ty, though, was a ghost. He did not say or do anything, and barely ever ate. He wouldn’t leave the room, unresponsive to anyone’s words or questions.

Kit remembers when he had first found out. He’d thought of Ty, and then he’d thought of Livvy. And when he thought of Livvy, his mind soon after found Ty. It was so natural; to think of one of them meant to think of the other one, too. The two of them were two individuals who had become an individual on their own.

Therefore, when Kit thought of Livvy dying, he thought of Ty dying as well. And he was not wrong. Livvy’s heart had stopped beating, but Ty’s world had stopped moving. And somehow, that was _so much worse_ than death; to live in a world that was dead, rather than die in a world that was alive.

            Knowing that sleep would never find him, Kit pushed himself out of the prison of thoughts his bedroom allowed his mind to wander in. His bare feet colliding with the cool floor, the feeling familiar and livening. He moved with subtlety and reluctance, knowing where his feet were leading him.

            His mind traveled to Livvy, and then to Ty, as it so naturally did. A promise had unravelled itself in the depths of his thoughts, one that was never said aloud, but was rather deeper than words. A _feeling_ of promise.

            The need to keep Ty alive, to keep him from a dull existence. He felt as though he owed it to Livvy. But not only to Livvy, but to Ty, too. 

            He owed it to the boy who saw wonders in the smaller things life offered, like the shiny white foam of a crashing wave, or the smoothness and detail of a marble counter top. He owed it to the boy who saw the world in a rush of constant motions and sounds, who used headphones to clarify his mind and steady his thoughts. He owed it to the boy who found thrill in mysteries, to the boy who never left his twin’s side, protecting her with all his might from anything threatening in knowledge that she would do the same.

            The boy who he held on the roof, who buried his face within his shoulder, in need of feeling. The boy who’s smile outshone every star in the sky, and who’s eyes held so much brightness and focus within them.

            He owed it to Ty; the boy who brought so many unidentified feelings to him, so many unknown ones, too many to take the time to clarify. His name brought a cluster of emotions, but the sight of him brought more.

            Kit had tried to speak to Ty over the two weeks, but he didn’t respond, his eyes staying put to the wall ahead of his bed where he sat, his hands clutching Livvy’s saber with an iron grip, his fingers locked around it so intensely his knuckles turned white.

Tonight though, he stood in front of Ty’s closed door with a burning dedication. Something peculiar flowing within his blood, his heart beating electrically.

He opened the door softly though, despite the fire burning in his chest. Kit’s eyes wandered in the dark room, both windows open widely, allowing freshness to spill in the room freely. Moonlight pooled in, illuminating the floor, and the face of Ty. Ty was not on his bed, but rather on the floor by it, his back leaning against it, his knees pushed up to his chest, his fists clenching the dark hair lightened by the moon as he rocked back and forth.

He looked like a painting, like something that belonged in museum. He was something worth not only being studied, but marveled by all the world. But Kit erased that last thought.

Ty wouldn’t want to be observed by the world, and Kit wouldn’t want him to be either, selfishly. He wanted to revel in Ty’s wonder on his own.

“Ty,” Kit pushed the words from his scratchy throat, moving towards him. Ty stiffened, no longer rocking himself, yet the rest of his body stayed in position.

“Ty,” Kit repeated, moving even closer. His heart ached at Ty’s broken beauty. “Can I sit with you?” The question had been asked before his brain had processed it.

Ty stayed still, his head still hanging, leaning on his hands that grasped at the strands of black hair. Kit didn’t understand why he was even in Ty’s room, why the unsaid promise had decided to find him tonight, why on earth he had felt the need to fulfill such a _stupid_ promise that was never even official. But then, Kit understood. He understood as soon as he saw the twitching motion of Ty’s head. A quick, stiff nod.

His heart jolted, and he felt his body soften, though he never noticed it was so tight in the first place. He walked to Ty with quietness, and sat down by him without a sound. A strong gust of wind allowed both their shirts to flutter, and Kit breathed it in, softening once again.

Kit sat only inches away from him, replicating his position, their shoulders not quite far apart, but their bent knees slanted close to each other. Still though, not one inch of them touched.

The silence was not comforting, but it still wasn’t uncomfortable. Kit turned his gaze to Ty, noting his sharp features. He hadn’t seen him this up-close in two weeks, and seeing him again sent a throbbing sensation to his chest.

“When I was a kid,” Kit broke the silence, words slipping from his lips before he could stop them. “I’d beg for my father to take me to the beach. My father didn’t take me though, probably knowing more than I did about what really lurked within the waters, but that’s not the point.” Kit stumbled at his last words, the thought of his father knowing of demons that lived within the sea was a new one to him.

“But one time, he finally agreed to take me,” Kit smiled at the memory. “I was so excited that I had taken the time to clean everything in my room, and in his, and even wash all of our dishes, even the clean ones.” Ty still gazed at the floor, his eyes moving slightly though, attentive and aware.

“I remember when I got there, I ran towards the water, but my dad grabbed my arm, holding me back,” Kit continued. “He told me not to go too deep in, that the waves could be too strong and drown me. I wasn’t really paying attention though, I was too excited to finally swim at the _beach._ So, as soon as he shut up, I ran into the water, and totally forgot about every small detail I had actually caught onto while he was speaking.”

Kit used his hands when he spoke, his fingers fiddling in the air, creating a show of their own. “At first, I stayed close, but then I remember going only a bit further and realizing that the current had taken me a bit too far,” Kit stated, his eyes glossy and stable. “I knew how to swim pretty well I guess, but then the first wave hit me, and everything just became hazy. I was under the water for a bit, trashing around.” Kit thought back to the feeling, his arms flailing hectically from the feeling of heaviness the water offered.

“All I heard was noisy crashing and my mind was spinning hard by the time the second wave hit me. It was like I was stuck under there, and I couldn’t come out. It felt like I was trapped in chaos.” Now, Ty looked at him, his steel eyes were stern and yet curious. “It felt like the world was pulled from under me, and I was gonna be stuck in chaos forever; never being able to breathe or hear anything but the sound of loud water until I let the waves kill me.” Kit fell quiet.

He remembers it, the utter chaos so powerful, so fast, it made everything seem so slow.

“But then, out of nowhere, somebody grabbed my arm and pulled me out. The world was so bright, it was so different than being stuck down there.” Being pulled out, Kit remembers, was like turning on a light in a dark room. The sun was so different on the surface than under the hectic blueness of the water.  “My eyes burnt, and my lungs felt like they were going to just burst.”

Ty’s hands were still locked onto strands of his silky hair, but his face was no longer a hardened pain. Instead, his eyes offered softness and curiosity, but still, hurt was visible. Kit urged to push him into his arms, to hold him until the world around them shifted back to where it was meant to be, to hold him until all the aches of his heart disappeared.

But Kit knew it was impossible, for to cure Ty, meant for Livvy to be holding him instead.

“But eventually, everything died down,” Kit continued. “My lungs hurt less, I wasn’t dizzy anymore, and I saw the face of my father above me.” Kit remembered the feeling of his father's hands brushing through his wet hair, his eyes flooded with worry. His father had never been protective or loving to him in the way Julian was to his siblings. But he was his father. And he’d never forget the frantic feeling of his father collecting his young body in his rough arms, an embrace laced with utter fear. One of his only memories of his father being affectionate was one caused by a near-death experience. It wasn’t necessarily supposed to feel reassuring or warming, but Kit allowed himself to find the love in it.

“The point is,” Kit said. “Even though it felt like I was going to drown, or stay stuck in the hectic loneliness of the waves, I didn’t.” Suddenly, Kit felt stupid. He didn’t know where he was going with this story, or why his mind, of all things, had exposed Ty to _this_ memory.

            Kit almost died, but Livvy actually _did._ Regret and embarrassment swelled up in him as he saw Ty’s arched eyebrows, knotted together from confusion, his eyes open wide in astonishment.

            “I…” Kit managed, his voice nearly failing him. The sight of Ty was unbearable. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I even told you that.”

            Kit saw Ty swallow, his lips beginning to open. His mouth formed a shape, but no words found their way out.

            “I just - I guess I thought that the whole concept of feeling like you’re going to be stuck in pain forever and then realizing that you won’t was what I was going for but….” Kit stumbled on his words. _Stupid, stupid, stupid,_ Kit thought.

            Ty stared at him steadily, his hands no long clutching at his hair, his fingers finding their way to the ground instead, landing on the cold institute floor.

            In the day, the sun made Ty seem colourful and out of this world. But at night, the moon turned him black and white and beautiful.

            Ty had just lost half of himself, and here Kit was, telling him a shallow story of survival. He felt so _stupid._

“I’m sorry,” Kit repeated. He looked at Ty with a genuine face, his eyes pouring themselves into his. “I’m so sorry. I should go.”

            Pushing himself upwards, he felt a cool hand wrap itself around his wrist. His eyes met Ty’s steel ones once more, the boy alarmed.

            “No,” Ty whispered, his voice sounded shattered and desperate. “Don’t go. You can stay. Please”

            Kit swallowed nervously, his heart beating quickly. This wasn’t what he had expected; for Ty to ask him to stay. For Ty to say anything at all. But still, he didn’t know what he expected. He didn’t know why he had found himself here in the first place, what he really wanted to achieve. Yes, he wanted to fulfill an unspoken promise. But _how_?

            “I won’t,” Kit promised, sitting back down. He sat closer to Ty now, their arms nearly touching. “If that’s what you want, then I’ll stay.”

            Ty nodded sternly, his hand still wrapped around Kit’s tanned wrist. Kit saw it now, the unshed tears in Ty’s silver eyes.

            “That’s what I want.”

* * *

 

 

           **The Little Boy’s Cries**

It had happened again the next night. Kit sat by Ty on the Institute floor, their backs pressed against the bed, the moonlight their companion. And again, the night after, and the one following that one. It had been four nights of Kit wandering into Ty’s room to join him as they sat motionlessly, mostly saying nothing.

            Whenever words were said, they came from Kit. They were never really anything of importance, sometimes a simple hello, other times a small comment on the wind.

            Kit only left when Ty fell asleep, after hours of sitting together. He wanted to put him to bed, but the dark-haired boy was taller and stronger than Kit was, and he didn’t want to wake or disturb him.

            Instead, he’d take a blanket from the bed, and wrap it around Ty softly. He took his time to do so, being gentle and kind, staring at the delicateness of Ty’s sleeping face. Even sleeping, he looked hurt.

            Tonight, Kit wandered in earlier than usual, finding Ty still in bed. When Ty noticed him, he went to move to the floor, but Kit stopped him.

            “Don’t,” he said hurriedly. “You looked comfortable. You can stay in the bed tonight, and I can just sit on the floor.” It didn’t bother Kit, but suddenly Kit remembered it might bother Ty. Ty liked for things to be done in certain ways, feeling uncomfortable or unsafe if they weren’t.

            He didn’t need for Ty to be in more distress than he already was.

            But Ty looked at him gently, moving to lay back down with obvious reluctance.

            “Unless, you know, you _want_ to sit on the floor,” Kit added with gentleness.

            Ty shook his head, and Kit moved to sit on the floor. Admittedly, Kit wished Ty were next to him, where he could observe his sharp features and starlit eyes.

            Tonight, the wind was softer. It wasn’t strong enough to move Kit’s hair, or allow either of their shirts ruffle up, but the moon was brighter. He noticed especially when he has looked back to Ty, to find the boy’s brightly illuminated face gazing at him with focus and passion.

            His lips parted, beginning to say something. Kit’s ears seemed to search for sound, ready to catch onto the first words Ty would have spoken since the first night he wandered into Ty’s room. Instead, a loud, whiny cry that did not belong to Ty flooded both of their ears.

            Ty’s mouth closed suddenly, both their heads turning to the shut door.

            “Livvy!” The voice of a little boy sobbed. “Livvy!” Kit swallowed roughly. It was Tavvy, crying out for his sister. 

            Julian’s loud footsteps met the Institute hallway as he ran to his younger brother’s room.

            “Livvy!” Tavvy cried again, his voice was sharp and painful. The noise of a door opening and closing assured Kit that Julian had made his way to Tavvy’s room.

            Kit sighed softly, his head turning to find Ty. Suddenly, Kit’s heart broke. Ty’s face was soaked with thick tears that still pooled down his alarmed face, his lips were tightly closed together, attempting to hold back a choked sob.

            Kit moved onto the bed achingly, his hands shaking lightly. Ty’s eyelids opened to reveal the glossy steel behind them suddenly, more tears falling.

            With strength, Kit moved to brush one away. It was warm and felt heavy on his thumb. Ty flinched at the touch, but composed himself soon after. His tears fell with more persistence.

            “Hold me,” Ty uttered sharply, his voice broke like glass shattering on a marble floor. “Like that night on the roof. Please, Kit.” Ty sounded desperate, in need of someone to grasp onto.

 In need of pressure.

Kit latched onto him, his arms engulfing the boy, forcing him to his chest, stroking his night-dark hair. His body was familiar, and still sent shocks of electricity through him.

Ty grabbed onto him harshly, his head burying itself in his shoulder, tears wetting the white cotton of Kit’s V-Neck. He made a noise that was almost incomprehensible, but Kit heard his muffled whisper; his moan of depression.

_“Livvy.”_

Kit’s heart ached more, his hands wrapping themselves around Ty with more passion, more determination. The unspoken promise was alive in Kit’s mind now, and it was buzzing.

How hard it must be for Ty. How impossible it must be for him to think of a world without his twin.

Livvy was half of Ty’s heart. And half of a heart could not function on its own; it takes a whole heart for a body to live.

Ty clutched onto the back of Kit’s white shirt, his fingers digging roughly in the thin fabric, his hands familiarizing themselves with the warmth of his body.

Suddenly, the familiar cry of Tavvy found its way down the halls once again, but it was another name the boy called.

“Ty!” Tavvy screeched, sounding nearly as desperate as Ty had only moments prior when asking Kit to hold him. Ty’s head arched upwards, detaching himself from Kit’s shoulder, their arms still tied around one another.

Tavvy had rarely ever called for Ty before. It was almost always Julian he wanted, and when, for whatever reason, Julian wasn’t available, it was Livvy or Dru he sought after.

The sound of Tavvy calling for Ty sent a new feeling through Ty, and Kit noticed from the sharp expression on his face. It was one similar to Julian’s, one that screamed _‘I’ll protect you’_. In that moment, Kit swore he had never seen Ty look more like his brother.

“Ty!” Tavvy screamed again, and within seconds, Ty was gone, Kit becoming unnoticeable to him. His usual light footsteps were heavy as he ran down the hallway to his younger brother’s room, as Julian had done not too long ago.

            Unsure what to do with himself, Kit followed Ty at a far slower pace. When he had found himself in front of Tavvy’s slightly open door, Kit looked through the open crack, curious.

            There, he found Tavvy’s arms gripped around Ty’s neck, as Ty sat on his bed. He heard Tavvy’s whimpers from where his head was buried in Ty’s neck, similar to what Ty had done to Kit, yet still so different.

            Ty had one hand loosely around the boy’s back, the other hesitating as he stroked his brown Blackthorn hair.

            Standing behind them, Julian stared in awe at his brothers holding onto each other. Perhaps more at the sight of Ty out of his room, of Ty being somewhat functional. Quiet tears fell onto his cheeks, a sad smile on his face.

            Feeling as though he were intruding on a meaningful moment between three broken brothers, Kit left to return to his room.

            But first, he stole one last look at Tiberius Blackthorn, and the soul that so often left him moved.

* * *

 

 

            **The Unexpected Morning**

The following morning, Kit sat by Emma at the breakfast table. The chatter was quiet and often meaningless as it had been recently. He harshly spread jam on his toast with a silver butter knife, focusing on covering all the edges.

            Emma giggled genuinely, and Kit looked up to her questionably.

            “You look like Ty when you do that,” she marveled, her voice was sweet and nostalgic, her brown eyes looking at him but seeming to be somewhere else, lost in another world, in another memory.

            Kit smiled at her softly, one that wasn’t filled with excitement or happiness but rather dullness and sadness. “Thanks.” He assumed it was a compliment. Being compared to Ty would never be an insult.

            Emma smiled the same somber smile, nodding slowly as she dug her nails into an orange. Julian walked behind her, his hand landing on her shoulder, squeezing gently.

            A small gesture of reassurance, Kit assumed. She looked up at him with wide eyes, and he looked down at her with loving ones. Kit thought of Emma and Julian with envy, the two of them loved each other with a passion that seemed to brighten the room. But at times, Kit saw more than a friendly love, the love of _Parabatai_. At times, Kit saw sparkles in Julian’s eyes when he gazed at Emma, and in Emma’s eyes he saw stars when she looked to Julian.

            “Ty?” Dru’s voice suddenly woke the room, her eyes landing on a familiar figure that had wandered in. Ty’s hair was messy, he wore sweatpants and a black T-Shirt that seemed to be too big for him, but his eyes were the familiar steel Kit so often dreamed of.

            “Ty,” Julian said his name with a fiery love, he walked over to him by the entryway, both of his hands occupied with plates of food.

            “Good morning,” Ty said delicately, he walked towards the table, his eyes meeting Kit’s. Ty walked over to him, sitting in the free spot next to him. Everyone’s eyes landed on him, Mark with a wide smile at the sight of his brother, Cristina replicating it. Dru stared at him as though he weren’t real, her eyes filled with curiosity. Tavvy sat silently, staring at him with wide eyes and sticky hands. Emma looked at Ty with wonder, she reached passed Kit to place her hand by his at the table.

            “Hey,” she smiled, awestruck.

            “Hey,” he smiled back, the same somber smile Kit had shared with Emma only moments prior. Emma moved to place her hand over Ty’s squeezing it strongly, and the boy did not resist.

            Julian hovered over him with a plate of pancakes covered in fruit, placing it in front of his brother. Julian handed him a fork and a knife, both of which Ty took gratefully. Julian simply nodded, still shocked that he had wandered in this morning.

            Had holding Tavvy last night changed him? Had his little brother calling for him pulled him out of the sea, preventing him from drowning. Had he been saved, like Kit, when his father pulled him out of the thrashing current?

            It didn’t matter, because he was here, next to him, eating. Though his face still had the lingering sadness noticeable in the bags under his eyes, and the lack of brightness in his iris’, he was here, next to Kit.

            As for now, though, this would do.

            Julian placed the remaining plates at open spots on the table, his hands finding their way back to Ty. One of them ruffled his hair, and the other squeezed his arm.

            Julian then moved forward, whispering something Kit couldn’t hear in Ty’s ear. And for a second, Kit caught sight of the most beautiful smile he had ever seen.

* * *

 

**The Worst of Nights.**

Kit had stopped going to Ty’s room ever since that night Tavvy called for him. Tavvy had insisted on sleeping in the same room as Ty for the upcoming nights, leaving Kit with the unspoken assumption that Ty didn’t need his nightly company anymore.

            At first, it seemed as though he thought correctly. Ty detached himself from his room, spending time with Dru and Tavvy. They’d talk in the library mostly, and Kit would watch from afar. If he wasn’t in the library watching Ty, Kit was in the training room with Emma and Cristina.

            They taught him how to properly throw knifes and sharpen swords, how to shoot a crossbow and how to fight with simply your hands. The world was not shifting back, for that was impossible. But, rather, Kit was learning to live sideways, as were the others.

            The day was livelier now, more bearable. But the night was still so often nightmarish.

            He still heard Julian’s sobs as he passed his room, still heard Tavvy wake up begging for Livvy, and still heard Emma screaming at the darkness.

            And Kit’s own nights were still engulfed with Livvy’s bloody body, the broken part of the Mortal Sword buried in her tight chest. He, too, woke up calling for her. He simply hopes his screams were not as loud as the other’s.

            He realized how Ty’s company was not only necessary for Livvy’s twin, but for himself, too. He missed Ty’s moonlit face, and his sleepy eyes, and the calm of his rhythmic breathing. Both his heartbeat and breathing were a lullaby Kit had become programmed to, aching for it like a child ached for a teddy bear.

            Tonight was different though.

            Tonight, it was Julian who screamed from his nightmare, the name on his lips belonging to a girl who once looked up to him as though he hung up every star in the sky himself. He heard Emma’s voice, shaking Julian awake and into reality. Kit heard his sobs from the other side of the hallway, imagining how Julian must be wrapped around Emma like he and Ty had been a few nights ago.

            Then it was Dru, who had recently always been so quiet, who called out for Livvy. Instead of Julian, from the open door of his room exposing the hallway, Kit saw a tall, blonde haired figure run to her room. Mark.

            And then it was Tavvy, who called not for Ty, nor for Livvy, but for Julian. He heard the little footsteps running into Julian’s room, Julian’s sobs forcibly dying down with the urge to wear a brave face for his little brother.

            And then, not too long after, Kit saw him. Ty’s tall figure stood in the doorway, his moonlit face streaked with soft tears. Kit pushed himself upright in the bed, Ty moving towards him.

            His arms were wrapped around himself, attempting to hug his own body. _Pressure,_ Kit remembered, _he needs pressure._

Ty moved closer to his bed, each movement seeming to pain him. His eyes were a lost daze, his lips quivering as they held back throbbing sobs.

Before Kit could say anything, Ty spoke with a ragged voice.

            “I can’t breathe,” Ty uttered. “It hurts _so much_ , I can’t breathe.”

            Kit gasped instinctively, his own breath becoming heavy as he watched Ty’s arms press harder around himself, trying to offer himself a lonely comfort.

            “I know,” Kit whispered, half lying. He knew it hurt, though he didn’t know how much. But he wanted to take Ty’s pain, to take his hurt. He _wanted_ to know so Ty wouldn’t have to.

            Without any other words, Kit shoved Ty’s shaking body in his arms, rocking him as he latched onto him, one hand stroking his back, the other pressed against his head.

            Ty pressed his face to Kit’s chest, both hands gripping onto his back. It was so similar to the other night, and to the night on the roof. Kit’s heart throbbed, he felt it clawing at his insides, begging to heal Ty’s shattered soul.

            “It can’t be real,” Ty gasped harshly, as if he needed air. He moved his head from Kit’s chest and looked up to the blond boy with hopeful, desperate eyes. He looked like a little boy begging for a toy, his eyes wide. “It can’t be. Tell me it’s not, Kit. Please, it can’t be. How can I live?” His voice broke halfway, sobs making his sentence almost unintelligible.  

            “You have to,” Kit told him, his own voice laced with sorrow and his eyes filled with unshed tears that threatened to spill. “Livvy’d want you to. You know she would, just like you would have wanted her to if it were the other way around.”

            Ty sobbed harder, and Kit wished he hadn’t spoken at all as he continued to hold Ty in his arms, his body shaking so much Kit feared he’d shatter.

            “Every second,” Ty madly whispered. “Every single second.”

            Kit didn’t understand. “What do you mean?” Kit asked him, his hand heavily rubbing Ty’s back. _Pressure, pressure, pressure._

            “From the second I saw the sword in her chest,” Ty claimed, his voice breaking. “I wish it had been me. And every second since, I wish it were _me._ ”

            For a bit, Kit felt the world stop. Ty’s shaking body felt still in his arms, his moving hands feeling frozen, stuck in place. Kit reveled at Ty’s warmness, the steadiness he usually offered, the beauty of his mind, heart and soul reflecting the beauty of his sharply angled face.

            It suddenly occurred to him how a world without Livvy was unimaginably painful. And a world without Ty was just as bad. But a world without either of them was no world at all.

            “Don’t say that,” Kit exploded when the world began to move again. “Don’t you dare say that.”

            “Why not?” Ty asked with a genuine voice, soft and painful. “It’s the truth.”

            “Because,” Kit stuttered, his mind was a whirlwind of emotions, words and feelings chasing each other in his head and in his chest. “Neither of you deserve it.”

            “Maybe not,” Ty replied. “But it happened anyways. And she deserved it less than I ever will.” Ty was sobbing again, though he had never really stopped.

            Kit thought of Ty, and the new world he was forced into; a world without half of him, a world where he had to keep moving despite that fact.

            “Ty,” Kit said. He reached out to touch his face, his hands on each side of the boy’s smooth face. Ty stared at him longingly, hiccupping from the heavy sobs. Kit didn’t know what to say. He knew there were no words that could be so well put together that they would keep Ty from his inevitable pain.

            Instead, his eyes lingered, his fingers quickly erasing every tear that spilled from his starry eyes. Still, he was beautiful. Ty’s hands moved to steady themselves on Kit’s shoulders, the both of them kneeling on Kit’s soft mattress. Their knees touched, their faces mirroring each other with tears.

            “Ty,” Kit repeated, quietly. Though the world slowed, it never stopped.

            “I can’t feel anything,” Ty fearfully whispered through his heavy tears. “I can feel pain but I can’t feel anything else. When you held me, I still felt so _empty_. When Tavvy held me, I still felt that stupid emptiness.”

            Kit stared at him longingly. “I don’t think I’ll ever feel anything else again.” Though Ty knew it was impossible to forever only feel pain, the world was wonderfully managing to fuel him with doubts. And it wasn’t going away, it wasn’t getting better.

            “Ty,” Kit said again. Ty looked at him expectedly, waiting to hear something more than just his name, but no words seemed to find him.

            “I want to feel something,” Ty begged him, wanting to be held again, but to get something out of it other than the simple and empty feeling of two heavy arms thrown around him. “I want to feel something other than this _fucking pain._ ”

            _Help me_ , was what Kit understood from his words. _Help me feel something else._

Without too much reluctance, Kit’s hands pulled Ty’s beautifully moonlit face closer to him. He saw Ty’s details now, the subtle peach fuzz, a few tanned freckles on his cheekbones, a few blackheads on his teenage skin.

            His lips were rosy, and his cupid’s bow was prominent, like Livvy’s. And without a second thought, Kit pressed their lips together.

            At first, Ty stilled, and Kit stilled too. They sat there, on their knees, their touched lips unmoving.

            But then Kit pressed harder, the heat of Ty’s lips was inviting and comforting. Not soon afterward, Ty’s lips moved too.

            Their mouths pressed together, moving to a rhythm they had found so naturally. Their mouths were warm and wet, and they moved with aching passion and force. One of Kit’s hands stroked Ty’s silky hair, the other cupping his soft face.

            Ty’s hands were both on Kit’s neck, forcing Kit to him, pressing themselves closer together. They stood taller on their knees, their chests touching. Ty’s warm body sent electricity through Kit’s veins, and the beauty of their kiss fueled his heart.

            He didn’t want to stop, and Kit was so lost. He was lost in a world that wasn’t human, a world where his only thought was of Ty. Ty’s sharpness, Ty’s softness, Ty’s warmth, Ty’s passion, Ty’s mind, Ty’s lips.

            He was drowning in thoughts of a beautiful boy.

            He thought of the story he had told Ty, the first night in Ty’s room. The hectic feeling of the current, the world seeming so far away, the desperate ache and need to be pulled onto solid ground.

            But tonight, Kit drowned in Ty. He drowned in beauty and brokenness. And, tonight, he wished to never find solid ground again.  

           

 

 


End file.
